


Superhero for One Night (of Many)

by myownliberation



Series: Spots and Claws [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Finished!, now featuring: two additional chapters so it's not really a one-shot anymore, sweet and lame oneshot of two loser babies dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-06 15:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6760429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myownliberation/pseuds/myownliberation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m shocked at you, Adrien Agreste—is this all I am to you, a human shield?”<br/>“No! No, not a human shield, more like—like my own personal superhero.”</p><p>Rose's birthday party is always one of Marinette's favorite events, but Adrien still doesn't even know what normal kids <i>do</i> at parties. The one thing he does know? He does <i>not</i> want to slow dance with Chloe again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is sort of meant to be loosely set before Volpina. Maybe before Princess Fragrance, too, if that tickles your fancy! This little mini-series I'm doing is meant to slide somewhat seamlessly into canon events, we'll see how well I do.

        “Marinette! Girl, you look amazing! You made that?” Alya’s voice greeted Marinette as she stepped into the small hall of La Grand Paris that Rose’s parents had rented for the blonde’s birthday party, and Marinette couldn't help the proud grin that crossed her face as she nodded. Nor could she resist making a quick twirl on the spot to show off her outfit.

    Rose’s birthday was always an ordeal. And Marinette _loved_ it—Rose always had a theme for her birthday parties, and every year her parents ordered a themed cake from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. And every year, Marinette always started early on making her own outfit to fit Rose’s theme—but never anything that would outshine the birthday girl, of course.

    This year, Rose’s decision had almost certainly been informed by her rapidly-developing crush on the crown prince of Achu; the chosen theme was princes and princesses, which meant the dress code was black tie, and Marinette had gotten to eagerly sift through all her dress sketches for an outfit to bring to life.

    The winner had been a pale pink dress with white spots, poofing out slightly at the waist and falling just past her knees, held up at one shoulder and tied at the waist with two red sashes with black spots. It was a dress she felt thrilled about wearing out.

    It was a dress she felt thrilled about Adrien seeing her in.

    If he even came, of course, because she remembered his father hadn’t exactly been fond of the idea of Adrien having a birthday party of his own, and she wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed to visit a classmate’s. But all the same, she hoped he did, and she hoped it wasn’t too much to ask that the dress might make an impression.

    A bright laugh escaped Alya as Marinette completed her spin, and she stepped forward to loop her arm through Marinette’s. “You are going to be _turning heads,_ ” Alya assured her, like she knew what Marinette was thinking as she pulled her past the table where Rose’s birthday gifts were stacked, towards the birthday girl herself. Her dress, sleeveless, simple, and floor-length, was a pale purple that contrasted pleasantly against her dark skin, and it felt soft against Marinette’s arm.

        “Well, there’s only one head I want to turn,” Marinette replied with a hint of nervousness in her tone as she dropped her present—a hatbox containing another of her own designs, a bright pink newsboy cap with a tiara worked into the front—on the table along the way.

        “Relax, girl, if this dress isn’t enough to get that boy’s attention, I don’t know what could be.”

    Unfortunately, that had the opposite of the desired effect on Marinette. Seriously, how does a girl get a boy to fall in love with her? Marinette had no idea, and a dress probably wasn’t all it took, but, as Alya said—what _could_ be all it took?

        “Oh, no. Nuh-uh.” Alya lifted her free hand to flick Marinette’s forehead, hard enough to make her blink, and shook her head. “Stop being so _negative,_ girl, I’m giving you a compliment. I told you, remember? Some day Adrien’s definitely going to see how amazing you are.”

    Marinette didn’t get to reply, as Rose spotted them just then, letting out a squeal of delight and running to meet them. She certainly was a sight to behold as she bounded over—her dress as pink and poofy and sparkly as any glamorous princess’s should be, with a small train dragging behind her.

        “Alya! Marinette! You came!” she cried happily, as though it weren’t a given that _of course_ they’d come. She threw her arms around both of them, and the girls laughed as they returned the hug.

        “Of course. It’s not every year we’re invited to a royal birthday party,” Marinette replied with a smile, nodding to Rose as she stepped back. “I love your theme this year.”

        “Thanks!” Rose beamed. “Your parents’ castle cake is the cutest! It makes the whole—” Interrupting herself with a small gasp, Rose’s eyes lit up as she spotted something behind them.

        “Juleka!” she squealed as Marinette and Alya turned to look behind them, their eyes landing on the aforementioned classmate. Juleka looked more than a little uncomfortable and uncertain—she’d never been much of a dress girl, at least not the formal type, and she clearly felt out of place in her long, sweeping black dress that faded to purple at the bottom much like her hair, which was braided and hung over her shoulder for once. Her unease seemed to melt away into a genuine smile as she spotted Rose scurrying towards her, and Alya and Marinette decided with one shared look to move on let the two best friends visit.

    Calling happy birthday over their shoulders to Rose, Marinette and Alya turned back towards the room, both of them looking over it. Alya gave a low whistle. “The decorations are cute.”

        “She went all-out this year,” Marinette agreed, eyeing up one of several papier-mâché knights stationed around the room, which she was pretty sure Rose had made herself. And, though they were childish, Marinette couldn’t help smiling when she spotted ‘Pin the Tail on the Noble Steed’ and a dragon-shaped piñata off to the side of the dance floor. Just then, Alya straightened, and her hand reached out to wrap around Marinette’s forearm so she could drag her along.

        “Look, there’s Nino,” she pointed towards the dance floor, where Nino was holding an animated conversation with the DJ, and just like that, Marinette was getting towed towards the boy. “Wherever he is, Adrien’s usually not far.”

    Somehow, Marinette got the impression that that wasn’t the only reason Alya was eager to direct them towards Nino, but she let herself be pulled along regardless. She bobbed her head to the beat of the dance mix outpouring from the speakers beside the DJ booth as they walked, trying not to get herself too worked up thinking about whether Adrien would be here or not.

        “Hey, Nino!” Alya called, drawing his attention. Marinette offered a smile in greeting when he looked their way, and his expression lit up as he turned to them. “You look good.”

    Marinette would never understand where that kind of plainly stated compliment came from, or how to gather the same kind of confidence Alya possessed to say that kind of thing to _her_ crush whenever she wanted. Nino was wearing a suit, of course, because Rose made it clear she’d have nothing less from the boys, but his shirt was half-untucked and his jacket unbuttoned, and his tie—

        “Oh, hey girls,” Nino grinned as he stepped towards them, and Marinette’s eyes slid back and forth between Alya’s dress and Nino’s tie, a pale purple shade that matched it perfectly. “I’m trying to get this guy to let me DJ for a few minutes, but he’s not budging! It’s whack, it’s not like I’d ever break his equipment or anything. I’m not exactly an _amateur_.”

        “He probably just doesn’t want some upstart kid being better at his job than him,” Alya said decidedly, sounding, if only for his sake, similarly offended that the DJ would dare to refuse Nino. Marinette caught her eye, looking pointedly from Alya to Nino’s tie. Alya—who clearly knew very well exactly what Marinette was getting at—simply lifted her eyebrows innocently before turning back to Nino.

        “You _are_ still a contestant on that game show,” Marinette agreed with a nod, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips as she let it sink in that Alya and Nino had clearly made plans to match for this party. Well, good. They were cute together. “I’m sure he’s seen you, it’s probably exactly what Alya said.”

    Their flattery did dismiss whatever lingering frustrations he had with the professional DJ as quickly as they’d hoped, and Alya and Nino both launched into a conversation about something new Nino was doing with the school radio station that Alya wanted to cover on the school blog. A conversation Marinette didn’t exactly want to be third-wheeling, and her eyes drifted as she looked around the room, noting that most of their class had gotten there already.

    That was when her eyes landed on him.

    Adrien was off to the side of the room, seated next to an empty table, bobbing his head to the music similarly to how Marinette had been just a few moments before. He looked to be pretty content, but—well, he was alone. Should she… go sit with him?

    She barely registered the small click at her side that indicated Tikki had popped open her purse to stick her head out, not until after her kwami’s quiet voice reached her ears. “Go on.”

    Marinette’s eyes flicked to Alya and Nino, verifying that they were too engrossed in their own conversation to have heard her over the music, and then she looked down to meet Tikki’s eyes. The small kwami gave an encouraging smile, one which Marinette returned somewhat apprehensively, giving a nod of acknowledgement before Tikki slipped back into the purse and Marinette took a step towards Adrien. And then another.

    Oh, wow, this was not nearly as difficult as it would have been just a few weeks before.

    It still surprised her, her newfound ability to actually act like a normal person in front of Adrien—but things were different, of course, now that she’d actually spent a decent amount of time alone with him. Still, she worried that the more she marveled over the gaming tournament and her great uncle’s visit granting her the ability to talk with him like a competent human, the more likely she was to psych herself out, jinx the whole thing and turn back into a stammering mess. And worrying about _that_ didn’t help her keep her cool.

    A few feet away, Marinette faltered for a moment when her eyes landed on his outfit—his suit was tailored perfectly, of course, and it looked great on him, but that was hardly surprising; what was surprising was his tie, red with black spots, much like the sashes that held her dress over her shoulder and cinched it at the waist. Well, much like the entirety of Ladybug’s outfit, which was probably the real reason such an ostentatious design for a tie existed, but her heart still thrummed with senseless excitement at the thought that Adrien Agreste, love of her life, future husband and co-dog-owner, was matching with her, however unintentionally.

    Oh, great, and now she could feel her hands grow clammy as she tried to fight down the stupid, joyful feeling that brought on and took a few more steps towards him.

        “Uh, hey—Adrien.” Well, the words had come out at least, and in correct order, too, even if they were uttered somewhat awkwardly. It was better than it had been, so there was that. He glanced up to meet her eyes and see her small, tentative wave, and a bright smile crossed his face. “I, uh, like your tie.”

    Somehow, she actually managed a playful smile to match the remark, and when his eyes landed on the spotted sashes on her dress, his mouth briefly fell into a perfect, adorable ‘o’, before a laugh, friendly and open, escaped him.

        “Hey, Marinette. Yeah, I—it was with some Ladybug merch in a store I was passing by, and I thought it’d be kind of funny.” He returned her smile with one of his own, which she took as invitation enough to sit beside him, trying not to beam too widely as she did. “What about your spots? Inspired by the same bug?”

        “She’s pretty popular,” she said with a nod by way of her answer. She generally tried to avoid talking directly about Ladybug when possible, for her identity’s sake. But this was good, she decided silently with a pleased air as she smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress. They were talking, she was getting actual words out, she wasn’t shifting back into a trainwreck. All she had to do was keep this up.

    Think of something else to say.

    Anything else.

    Marinette opened her mouth—and she floundered. Her mind raced through all the topics they’d talked about in the past, grasping for one that she could make work now, but she’d been right to worry about psyching herself out. Her thoughts flitted from one thought to the next too quickly to formulate a coherent sentence, faint panic welling at the idea that she was falling right back into her old habit of making a complete idiot of herself in front of him—until Adrien, seemingly unaware of her internal crisis, stepped in to save her.

        “So, why aren’t you out dancing?” he asked, his face the picture of friendly curiosity as he nodded back towards the dance floor, towards Alya and Nino and a few of their other classmates, as well as a couple of Rose’s cousins; she had a handful around her age, and they usually came to her party, sometimes bringing friends of their own. “Not your thing?”

        “Oh, I just—you know me, I’m the klutziest girl in class,” she laughed at her own expense, shrugging. “Better not to try to trust my limbs to follow the beat in any sort of not-embarrassing way.”

    Good, she echoed her earlier thought, this was good. Bless Adrien for actually being capable of conversation. Bless Adrien for existing. Another pause, and then she grasped quickly for the subject again, not wanting to fall back into silence. “What about you? You’re not dancing either. Not _your_ thing?”

    Adrien let out a small huff that she decided sounded more or less like a laugh, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his head. “Well, you know, I’ve only been to one birthday party before this, and that… was a mess.”

    Marinette’s stomach twisted; she almost felt guilty. She had crashed his party in costume, after all, engaging his DJ in a fight that pretty effectively ruined any semblance of fun the party might have had. But it wasn’t _her_ fault that the Bubbler was imprisoning parents and partygoers alike. And Chat Noir had been there, too, so it was _his_ fault as much as hers.

    Ah, the old ‘throw your partner under the bus in your internal monologue’ method of guilt-relief. Simply classic.

    If Adrien noticed her brief internal debate, he didn’t show any signs of it, giving a small shrug. “I’m probably not any good at dancing anyway, since I only got to try it out at a party once, so I guess I’m just not sure what to do with myself.” He offered her a smile, as though what he said wasn’t on some level a little heartbreaking, as though it didn’t even bother him in the slightest. Marinette fought to keep her brow from furrowing.

        “Well—then we can just sit together.” Even though they were already doing just that; she was only so capable of knowing the right things to say to him. “And we won’t have to dance.”

    His smile brightened so much that all her doubts about her lackluster reply melted instantly, the same way she felt like _she_ was about to melt right under his gaze, so completely happy with what she’d said, as though it were the best suggestion in the world. Her heart skipped a beat. She hoped she wasn’t blushing. She was pretty sure she definitely was.

    Adrien settled back into his seat, his hypnotic green eyes tearing away from her own as he looked out over the room like watching everyone else having fun was enough for him, and Marinette released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Clasping her hands in her lap, she allowed herself a moment of triumph that their conversation, however brief so far, had gone smoothly enough. But she was stuck again.

    Searching, more calmly this time, for something to say, Marinette’s eyes drifted over the entrance in the hall just in time to watch Chloe enter with Sabrina at her side, fashionably late of course. And, Marinette noted with faint annoyance, Chloe seemed to be the only girl at the party who hadn’t cared about letting the birthday girl be the best dressed; her long, overly-elaborate yellow ballgown looked suited for a runway, or an actual princess, and the tiara she had rested on her blonde locks had to be worth a small fortune.

    Wrinkling her nose, Marinette opened her mouth to say something, before remembering that Adrien and Chloe were longtime friends however they occasionally clashed, and badmouthing her in front of him was probably _not_ the direction to take this conversation if she wanted him to like her _more_.

    Which just led to her crossing her arms and pursing her lips in silence, a brief glance cast in the direction of Alya, who she definitely could have complained with. But Alya looked like she was enjoying herself dancing alongside Nino, and it was enough to make Marinette grin, frustrations with Chloe quickly forgotten. Adrien started tapping out the beat of the song currently playing on his leg, and without thinking, Marinette found herself tapping along with her foot.

    She wished she had something to say. Did he mind the silence? She hoped against hope that he thought it was a comfortable silence. He was probably getting weirded out by how quiet she was, he was probably already regretting letting her sit with him when she couldn’t even hold up her end of a conversation, he—

    Marinette forced herself to take a deep breath, glancing down at her bag if only for a moment. She couldn’t very well open her purse and ask Tikki right here in front of Adrien for help with conversation, but she tried to at least let the kwami’s presence bolster her confidence a little. She’d made it this far, she could keep finding things to say.

    You know, in theory.

    Marinette barely noticed the song changing around them as she shifted in her seat, casting out for a topic, but the slower music definitely had a calming effect. Which was helpful, as she started drafting her next sentence to him in her head, slowly but surely.

    Before she had the chance to come up with something worth saying out loud, though, Adrien seemed to stiffen, his eyes caught on something out across the room, but before Marinette could follow his gaze, he was standing, turning to face her. There was almost a sense of urgency in the motion, something odd about his smile, but Marinette couldn’t think too deeply on it when he was suddenly extending a hand towards her.

        “Hey, wanna dance? I mean—I know you said it isn’t for you, but it’s a slow dance, and—”

        “ _Yes._ ” Marinette was on her feet faster than she actually registered what he was saying, her hand slipping into his a split-second before her mind caught up enough to launch into a frenzy. Because, oh, god, _Adrien_ just asked her to slow dance, she was holding _Adrien’s_ hand, he actually _wanted_ to slow dance with her and _he’d_ reached out to _her_ and _evidently_ wanted her to take his hand and this was an awful lot to wrap her head around all at once and she hoped he didn’t notice her cheeks burning. “Of course. I’d love to.”

    A look awfully similar to relief flashed across Adrien’s face, but before her frazzled mind could make any attempts at making sense of it, he was pulling her out towards the dance floor, and then reaching for her waist—her hands found his shoulders almost mechanically, her mind racing too fast for her to consciously decide to do _anything_.

    She was slow-dancing with Adrien.

    His hands were comfortably warm where they rested just above her hips, and her heart was stuttering out an erratic beat as her eyes practically burned a hole into his chest. She half-wanted to pinch herself, just to make sure this was actually happening.

        “Sorry,” Adrien said, making her furrow her brow as she blinked up at him. What on _earth_ did he have to be sorry for? “I know you said we could just sit and not dance, but I, uh, guess I changed my mind.”

        “Oh,” she half-laughed, shaking her head. There was still something not quite normal about his tone, but she wasn’t going to look too deeply into it. “No, that’s fine. This is fine. I mean, slow dances are—slow, so I’m not exactly a hazard to my surroundings. I don’t mind slow-dancing with you at all.”

    He looked pleased, a different sort of relief crossing his face, the kind that seemed to stem from not having offended her with his sudden change of heart. But just as he opened his mouth to respond, his eyes caught on something over her shoulder and his hands suddenly tightened on her waist as he pulled her abruptly closer—Marinette couldn’t react further than a small squeak and a furious blush before suddenly _something_ hurtled into her side hard enough to knock her off balance. It would have bowled her right over if Adrien hadn’t preemptively braced to steady her, keeping her from budging more than a couple steps to the side.

        “Sorry, you don’t mind if I cut in, do you?” the _something_ asked in the kind of haughty, unremorseful voice that could only have belonged to Chloe, abruptly making the entire prior series of events make more sense. Marinette’s eyes moved from her feet, which had just barely regained their footing, to Chloe, her nose wrinkling as she took in the blonde, who, despite her apology only looked _sorry_ that she hadn’t succeeded in knocking Marinette down and as far from Adrien as possible. “Adrikens and I haven’t gotten a chance to dance since his birthday, after all.”

        “Actually, Chlo, Marinette and I are kind of already dancing right now,” Adrien explained gently, seemingly already ready for the blonde and not offering Marinette the chance to snap at her. “We only just started, so… maybe the next slow song?”

    Chloe seemed to swell with fury as she narrowed her eyes at Marinette like it was all her doing, before pouting at Adrien.

        “But, Adrikens, our dance at your party got cut short, don’t you want to get a good one in?”

        “Maybe later,” he echoed, his tone still gentle but with a tone of finality that had Chloe bristling, ever unused to not getting her way. Marinette felt odd standing there with her eyes snapping back and forth between the two during their exchange, still pulled close to Adrien, his hands still gripping her waist—but he’d handled Chloe more efficiently and, well, _kindly_ than Marinette really thought she was capable of at the moment.

    After another moment of pouting at Adrien and another baleful glare at Marinette, Chloe blew Adrien a kiss, turning on her heel and walking away, back towards where Sabrina stood. “Next slow dance,” she called in a sickeningly sweet, sing-song voice over her shoulder to Adrien, words that Marinette could only feel sounded like a threat.

    Adrien seemed to sag with relief, his hold immediately loosening on her waist as he stepped back a respectable distance once more, and Marinette had to fight an urge to step closer again.

        “So—ah—you wouldn’t… mind if we happened to already be busy slow dancing right after every slow song starts tonight, would you?” he hazarded, the same tentative plea in his smile that had been there when he asked her to dance the first time, and just like that it hit her—the reason for his sudden desire to dance.

    He’d spotted Chloe making a beeline for him the moment the song had started, and he’d jumped for the first easily available excuse to get out of dancing with her.

    Maybe Marinette ought to be disappointed by that, but instead, she couldn’t help a laugh, her eyebrows raising at him as she lightly smacked his shoulder. “So _that’s_ why you suddenly changed your mind! I’m shocked at you, Adrien Agreste—is this all I am to you, a human shield?” But, really, she was delighted. Even if he hadn’t exactly wanted to dance with her, he definitely wanted to far more than he wanted to dance with Chloe. And he trusted her to be his _excuse_ to get away from Chloe. And it was nice, to have him trust her.

        “No!” he protested, though his cautious smile made him seem more at ease with her teasing. Oh, god, she was _teasing_ Adrien, she was _actually_ talking to him as easily as if he were a _normal person_ and she were a _normal person_ and playful banter was a _normal interaction_ for them. “No, not a human shield, more like—like my own personal superhero.”

    Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and somehow her hand moved from his shoulder to his tie, which she gave one light, playful tug. “Like your personal Ladybug?” And it set her heart racing, even though she was the one poking fun at him, because she _definitely_ could not have seen herself lightheartedly pulling at his tie or joking with him or anything like that even as early as five minutes ago.

        “Well, you do have the spots for it,” he replied with a small grin, before his expression shifted to one a little more earnest. “Please, Marinette?”

    Her cheeks dusted with color again, she knew, but she nodded immediately, laughing a little. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

    Again, the relief washed over his face, and then his eyes sparked with amusement. “So, if you’re my Ladybug tonight, does that make me your Chat Noir?”

    A scoff escaped her, and Marinette blurted out before she had a chance to think too much on it, “I’d much rather spend tonight dancing with you than Chat Noir.”

    Adrien laughed as though at his own private joke, though Marinette had no idea what was so funny about the truth, and he tilted his head at her in a gesture that, now that they were mentioning Chat Noir, somehow reminded her of a cat. “Why’s that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Well, way to put her on the spot. _Because you’re the one I’m in love with_ was the obvious response, but also _not_ the one you spring on a guy you’re just learning to talk to.

        “Because—you’re—my friend,” she managed, a shrug pulling at her shoulders. “And I’ve only met Chat Noir a few times, and you’re the one who asked for my help.” Good enough, right?

    More than good enough, clearly, if the way Adrien’s eyes lit up at her calling him her friend was any indication, and she fought to ignore the fluttering of her heartbeat at seeing his face so overjoyed at anything she said.

        “Well, I guess I can be Adrien tonight,” he conceded, like it was a chore, but one he was willing to do for her. “But I think being Chat Noir would be pretty awesome.”

        “I think being Chat Noir would make you a _goofball,_ ” she replied almost instantly, the words out without her even having to think about them.

        “You wound me, Marinette!” And then his eyes widened, and he scrambled to tack on, “Well—Chat Noir, but since he’s not here…”

        “Since he’s not here I wound _you_ by proxy?” Marinette asked, voice thick with amusement. “Maybe you’re _already_ a goofball without even having to be Chat Noir.”

    Adrien let out a laugh that sounded slightly tense and relieved, before pulling a perfect model pout, and her heart skipped a beat as her eyes fixed on the pout. “Now you _are_ wounding me, Marinette.”

        “I never said being a goof was a bad thing,” she was quick to reply, still trying to pull her gaze away from his pouted lips. “I think you’re great—I mean it’s great—I, you know, the being a goofball thing.” Well, she couldn’t exactly say she was glad to be in familiar, stammering territory.

    The song ended just then, and after an extra moment or two, Adrien’s hands slipped from Marinette’s waist. His smile returned as she was letting her hands fall from his shoulders and stepping back, and he glanced around the room as the next, upbeat song began. “So… do you want to sit back down, or we could…” His brow furrowed as he continued looking around, and she realized he’d definitely meant what he’d said earlier—he wasn’t sure what people even did at parties, had no idea what to suggest.

        “If you want,” she replied as helpfully as she could, beaming at him when he looked back to her. “But whatever you want to do, it’s probably best that we agree to do it together if I’m going to be your superhero for the night.”

    And just like that, she’d found a legitimate excuse to spend an entire party with Adrien Agreste. Now she _definitely_ wanted to pinch herself.

    His smile widened, and he nodded. “See, why can’t my dad just hire _you_ to replace my bodyguard? This is the kind of valiant dedication one could only hope for from a protector.” And then he was nodding his head back towards the seats they’d occupied a few minutes prior, though his eyebrows lifted into a quizzical expression as though he were asking permission. Smiling, she took a step in that direction by way of answer, and her fingers itched to reach for his arm, so she could loop her own arm through his, but she wasn’t that brave just yet.

        “No, you know me,” she dismissed playfully with a wave of her hand and a small shake of her head. “I’m too undependable for that kind of work. Always late or missing—you wouldn’t be very protected.”

        “Suits me,” he laughed, tucking his hands into his pockets as they made their way back to their earlier seats. “It’s not like I can’t handle myself. You’re much better company than my current bodyguard, though.”

        “Too bad I’m too busy being a noble superhero to offer my services up for hire, then,” she replied with a bright little grin, before dropping lightly into the chair she’d sat in earlier. Taking a seat right next to her, Adrien returned the smile so enthusiastically that his eyes shut for a moment, before shifting slightly in his seat to face her more directly, and leaning forward just a bit.

        “Thank you again, Marinette,” he said earnestly, “I know you can probably find better things to do than hang with one awkward kid for the whole night.”

    Adrien? Awkward? Was that even _possible?_ No—no, between the two of them, she was definitely the awkward one. Shaking her head once again, she found herself leaning towards him a little, too, mirroring his posture. “Don’t mention it; nowhere I’d rather be.” No, wait, was that too much? “I mean—it’s all the same, I—” Too dismissive of his company? “—with you’s as good as hanging around anyone else—” Definitely too dismissive. “—I just, I mean I _like_ spending time with you. You’re not awkward.”

    She really needed to get a lid on this stammering for good one of these days.

    But he looked pleased, and not even entirely too weirded out by her fumbling. He was probably _used_ to it by now, which was the worst thought of all. But it also made her determined to get ahold of herself and _talk_ with him like a normal person the way she had when her great uncle had visited, and after how easily they’d been talking up until now, that finally seemed a little more attainable.

    So she leaned back slightly, craning her head to get a look at the food table across the room, before looking back to Adrien. “Alya’s mom said Rose’s parents are having the hotel cater the party—do you think they’re serving my uncle’s celestial soup?” She remembered eating it with him and her uncle, and she remembered him enjoying it as much as she had.

        “I hope so,” he replied eagerly, and just like that, she was settling easily into a conversation with Adrien, debating the likelihood of soup as a party dish, discussing whether the hotel could make the soup as well as her uncle had, talking about the last she’d heard of how he was getting along back home in China after being named the world’s greatest chef.

    And, with a warm feeling settling over her, Marinette decided tonight was going to go just fine.

* * *

    By the time Marinette finally bothered to check the time on her phone, she was shocked to see the party was almost over. She guessed maybe it had been a while, but it hadn’t felt like any time at all—miraculously, she and Adrien hadn’t lacked for subjects to talk about or ways to entertain themselves the entire night. She felt bad for whoever had to clean up their table after the party, though—she wasn’t even sure who’d started it anymore, but for a solid half hour between talking about new downloadable content for Mecha Strike and the work she’d put into her dress and classes they’d both missed, the two had been littering the table with poor attempts at origami figures made with the napkins around the table.

    Neither of them were particularly adept at the Japanese art, but that hadn’t exactly stopped them. They needed _something_ to do between their handful of trips to the dance floor during the slow songs.

    Marinette placed her latest pitiful attempt at the paper folding craft beside her and Adrien’s paper plates from the slices of cake they’d had earlier, both plates littered with candy wrappers from the piñata they’d both taken a swing at earlier, and looked up at him. She had to stifle a giggle at the look of determined concentration on his face as he attempted to make the flimsy material hold its shape, but before she could comment, Alya was suddenly upon them, her hands landing with an excited thud on the table beside Marinette.

        “Girl, Nino finally got the DJ to finally hand him the reigns—he’s letting him DJ for a few songs! Come on, you’ve got to dance with me.” She didn’t wait for a response as she leaned down to grab Marinette’s wrist, pulling her up and out of her chair, but Marinette wouldn’t have resisted anyways. She stumbled to her feet and followed Alya for a couple of steps, before coming to a halt, Alya’s hand still tugging at her wrist as she paused and turned back to Adrien, extending a hand to him.

        “Come on.” She smiled, hand reaching out to him in invitation. “As your protector for the night, I insist—where I go, you go. Besides, you wouldn’t sit out your best friend’s moment to shine, would you?”

    He clearly hadn’t needed any convincing, already reaching to take her hand—her heart stuttered a couple beats, but her fingers grasped his nonetheless. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Beaming at her, he stood, and then just like that the three were all moving, Alya towing Marinette, who was towing Adrien. Marinette paid careful attention to where she walked as she was towed along; the last thing she wanted was to trip over her own feet in Alya’s haste and probably drag Adrien down with her, knowing her luck.

    They didn’t let go until they were right in front of the DJ booth, between the speakers, and Marinette released Adrien’s hand as Alya dropped her wrist. Nino grinned over the booth at them, shooting a wink and finger guns their way from his spot behind the turntable, and Marinette bounced on her feet as she flashed a smile in Adrien’s direction, before she started dancing in earnest.

    She wasn’t the best; like she’d said, she wasn’t exactly coordinated, but Marinette did her best to match her movements to the beat and to Alya’s much more graceful dancing, and it wasn’t long until all three were laughing, sharing grins and looks of delight as they let themselves get swept up in the music, dancing along to Nino’s tunes with glee.

    When Adrien caught her eye and winked, Marinette let out a breathless laugh and decided right then—this was the best birthday party Rose had ever thrown.

    And when his hand grasped hers briefly to give her a quick spin to the beat of the music, she was pretty sure no night was ever going to top it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work, but I wrote it when horribly sick and months out of practice. Please leave a comment if you liked it!
> 
>  **Edit:** Thank you all so much for the kind words! This was originally meant to be a one-shot, but all the support has led me to decide to expand it by just a couple of chapters!  <3 I'll also be continuing a mini-series set in the same universe as this fic, [follow me on my tumblr](http://belladxne.tumblr.com/tagged/SCS-tag) if you want occasional commentary, sneak peeks, and behind the scenes so to speak. My askbox there is always open for questions and thoughts about the series, too!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tikki and Alya gush with Marinette about Adrien; Plagg and Nino good-naturedly harass Adrien about Marinette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise next chapter that I never planned to write! It's just half the length of chapter one, just a short segue meant as more a bridge between chapters 1 and 3.

    Marinette was jittery and excitable with glee as she lay stomach-down across her chaise lounge, Alya’s excited voice chattering into her ear through her phone and her legs kicking back and forth above her like a giddy child’s. Marinette had already squeezed every detail she could about Nino out of Alya, so the two had moved on to Marinette’s own luck with Adrien. “I know!” she exclaimed, her own words still coming out a mile a minute. “But it wasn’t like that, he just needed someone to help him dodge slow dances with Chloe.”

        “So you _said,_ ” Alya replied, but she sounded no less suggestive in her tone than she had moments before. “I’m just saying, it’s like, weird.”

        “I think it’s pretty _normal_ to want to avoid dancing with Chloe at all costs,” Marinette said somewhat drily.

    A laugh of agreement, bright and brief, sounded through the phone’s speaker, before Alya pushed on, “No, girl, I don’t mean tonight, exactly. But don’t you think it’s crazy how many lucky breaks you’ve been getting with this boy? I mean, first, you just happen to pull some mad skill out of nowhere to play in some video game tournament with him, so the boy’s gotta come to your house and spend a whole afternoon with you—”

        “I’ve always been good at Mecha Strike, I play with my dad all the time!”

        “Sure, right, but you never even _mentioned_ it until you were whupping Max’s butt in the tryouts,” Alya said, as though that made the skill just as unexplained. “Then, your great uncle comes to town and you have no idea how to talk to the guy, giving me the perfect excuse to call Adrien over to spend the _whole_ day with you—”

        “You’re the best friend I could literally ever, ever ask for, by the way.”

        “I know. And then tonight, he just _happens_ to need a reason to avoid Chloe, and you just _happen_ to be his nearest available excuse, so you kids just _happen_ to dance the whole night away? You have to see what I mean—for a girl who couldn’t even talk to him, like, a month ago, your luck sure has gone up an insane amount. And then there was that ladybug that landed on your letter to him way back on Valentine’s Day! It’s weird, like some cosmic deity is trying to push you together even more than I am—and I have been putting _work_ into helping you with this boy.”

        “Have I mentioned yet that you’re the best?” Marinette asked again, upon the reminder. A huge, dumb grin was crossing her face as she flopped over onto her back, her chaise lounge barely wide enough to accommodate the motion without her teetering even farther, onto the floor. Even if she knew Alya was intentionally exaggerating to emphasize the change in the tide with her crush, it didn’t make the idea that the whole _universe_ wanted her with the love of her life any less thrilling.

        “Girl, I know it.” Alya replied almost dismissively, though Marinette could hear the grin in her friend’s voice. “Anyways, I’ve got to go, my sister’s bedtime is in half an hour and she’ll start throwing stuff at me if I’m not off the phone while she’s trying to sleep. Love you, girl.”

        “Love you, night!” Marinette said by way of farewell, before hitting the end call button and holding the phone to her chest, a grin splitting her lips as she stared across to the opposite side of the chaise lounge, where a suit jacket was draped across the back of the lounge chair.

 _Adrien’s_ suit jacket.

    That he’d given to her right when they were getting ready to leave the party, upon realizing it had started _pouring_ while they were inside the hotel.

 _‘It’s no umbrella…’_ he’d said, shrugging the jacket off just inside the lobby doors as she’d stared at him with wide eyes. _‘But you worked really hard on that dress, maybe this’ll help you keep as much water off it as possible.’_

    An elated sigh escaped her lips as she let it sink in again that he’d lent her his jacket to keep her safe from the rain. As she lay there, smiling like an idiot, Tikki whizzed across the room in a streak of pink from where she’d been sitting to perch quite comfortably on Marinette’s stomach, now that her conversation with Alya had drawn to a close.

        “I’m glad you had a good time, Marinette,” Tikki said, sounding a bit unmistakably like a proud parent. Marinette couldn’t help but wonder, absently, how many times Tikki had had to do this before; look after Ladybugs who were young and excitable and still growing and learning not to be _totally_ nuts about their crushes.

        “I actually _talked_ to him!” was all Marinette really had in her arsenal to reply with as she beamed at her friend and guide, dropping her phone on the cushion beside her and reaching to cup the little kwami in her hands, as if to make a small cradle for Tikki.

        “Yes, and you did _very_ well,” Tikki replied, giving a confirming nod as she did. “You did much better than you’ve been known to—I think you’re finally starting to master your emotions.”

        “Well, practice makes perfect,” Marinette surmised, her smile slowly shifting to a thoughtful one. After a few moments of mulling over Alya’s throwaway comment, she squinted at Tikki in a suspicious expression that was clearly mostly joking—and clearly partially serious. “…Hey, Tikki, _you’re_ not some secretly all-powerful cosmic deity using your magic universe-altering abilities to help push me and Adrien together, are you?”

    The kwami threw her head back into a laugh, before shaking her head. “No, Marinette. And if I did have such power, I’d use it on far less trivial things than matchmaking.”

    Marinette let out a small gasp of offense, gently retrieving one of her hands that had been cradling Tikki to instead dramatically lay it over her heart as though wounded. “Tikki! Are you calling my happiness with Adrien _trivial?_ ”

    Tikki couldn’t help but laugh as she leaned forward in the palm of Marinette’s hand, tilting her head at the girl. “You _know_ what I mean, Marinette. If I had any sort of power on my own, I’d be using it to stop people like Hawkmoth. _Not_ to change the whole universe just to get you to talk to a boy you can clearly get along well with anyways.”

        “He gave me his jacket,” Marinette sighed, dissuaded that easily from the topic now that she was reminded of how _well_ she’d actually managed to interact with him tonight. Once again, her gaze was drawn to the garment where she’d carefully placed it over the back of her chaise lounge in hopes of not wrinkling it while the rain dried out of it.

        “It was very chivalrous of him,” Tikki said, sounding particularly happy for Marinette as she zipped out of Marinette’s hand, over to hover just above the jacket. “And are you going to give it back to him?”

    Propping herself up on her elbows, Marinette raised an eyebrow at Tikki. “Of course I am! I gave back his umbrella, didn’t I?”

        “His umbrella didn’t smell like his cologne,” Tikki said knowingly, causing Marinette’s mouth to fall open in mild offense. Okay, so, she’d totally noticed that on the way up to her room, but—

        “Tikki, how creepy do you think I _am?_ ”

        “Well…” The kwami started, before whirling through the air, across the room to the rolled up poster on which Marinette had carefully documented Adrien’s schedule, and beginning to tug on the end of the poster in hopes of pulling it open for a visual example. She wasn’t having much luck, which was only a small relief to Marinette’s ego.

    Groaning, Marinette flopped an arm over her eyes, waving the other as if to wave off Tikki’s whole argument. “Fine, okay, you made your point. But I’m not keeping the jacket.”

        “Good.” Though Marinette couldn’t see her kwami’s expression through the arm she’d dramatically flung over her face, she could hear the air of approval in her voice, and she supposed that was nice enough.

    It was better than being chided for being— _possibly,_ just a _little_ —too obsessed with Adrien.

    Dropping her arm from her face, Marinette’s eyes moved once again to the black jacket, her brow furrowing contemplatively. Her eyes slid across the room to some of the leftover material from the dress she’d made, an idea starting to slowly cobble itself together in her head. Nothing concrete just yet, but as her eyes moved once again to Adrien’s jacket, it was barely another moment or two before excitement lit her face, and in a whirl of giddiness she suddenly pushed herself into a sitting position.

        “Tikki, I have an idea!”

    She didn’t elaborate as she launched herself forward, her hands grasping quickly at the suit jacket. She clambered off the chaise lounge—moving, in her excitement, so fast that she lurched forward and crashed face-first onto the floor before she could get her legs under herself to scramble across the room. Beaming widely as she reached her sewing kit and the leftover Ladybug-style fabric, she shot a near-manic grin in Tikki’s direction.

        “This is gonna be great!”

* * *

    Adrien was in high enough spirits that even the sounds of Plagg pigging out on a container of camembert beside him on the desk wasn’t enough to irritate him. Though it did ruin his appetite, soundly and immediately; he was glad to have eaten at Rose’s birthday party, with Marinette.

    He scrolled absently through the most recent entries of Alya’s on the Ladyblog—he knew she hadn’t had time to make any discoveries or posts about Ladybug, since she’d been at the party all afternoon, too, but it was his go-to habit when he didn’t have anything else to do. And sometimes, in the space between updates, some follower of the blog would leave a comment with some interesting information for her to explore, and for Adrien to think on in the meantime.

    No such luck, this time.

    A piece of camembert held in his hands, Plagg rolled across the desk, and Adrien had to resist the urge to scrunch his nose up when the kwami came to a stop in front of him. “Aw, Plagg, c’mon, do you have to eat that so close to my keyboard?”

        “What, you think I’m gonna let some of my delicious cheese get on your grubby keyboard?” There was an almost lazy lack of care in Plagg’s reply as he nibbled on the foul-smelling piece of cheese. “Like I’d let it go to waste like that!”

        “You’re not exactly the _neatest_ eater I’ve ever seen,” Adrien said, unconvinced and leaning back in his chair slightly to put some distance between himself and the aforementioned cheese. Plagg’s mouth seemed to grow to half the size of his face for him to shove only half the piece of cheese into his mouth and take a bite—even nauseated as he was, Adrien wished Plagg would just get it over with and swallow the whole thing in one bite like usual, so he at least wouldn’t have to worry about it near his mouse and keyboard.

        “Yeah, whatever,” came Plagg’s reply around a mouthful of cheese, and Adrien couldn’t help wrinkling his nose anymore as he looked down at the kwami, who seemed entirely unbothered as he shifted the subject. “So, that Marinette girl.”

    It took Adrien a moment or two to realize that the disgruntled noise and exaggerated eyeroll that promptly escaped Plagg were triggered by his own dopey smile at the mention of his friend. He couldn’t help it; he’d had a _genuinely good time_ when he wasn’t all too sure he would, and it was thanks in no small part to a friend agreeing to sit and visit with him.

    And more than anything, he appreciated her not prying or making assumptions about why he didn’t want to dance with Chloe, taking it at face value and helping without much plea on his part. Chloe was his oldest friend, if not his closest anymore, and he still _valued_ that friendship, even if her companionship was sometimes… stifling. He was glad not to have Marinette question that friendship, because it was complicated in a way he didn’t always know how to explain, and he doubted it would be any easier to explain to Marinette, who had a… strained relationship with Chloe at best.

        “Ugh, see, you insisted back on that first day of school that you and this girl are just friends, and then tonight happens. I can practically hear the wedding bells already, ick.”

    And just like that, the smile was gone.

        “ _Plagg._ ” Adrien’s tone was mildly scandalized, brow furrowing as he shot his kwami a chastising look. “She _is_ just a friend.” Plagg of all people knew Adrien had pretty decidedly already _found_ the love of his life.

        “A friend who you spent the whole party talking with, for hours.”

        “Have you ever had a friend? Talking is sort of what friends _do_.” Adrien’s experience on the topic may be limited, but he was proud to say he definitely knew that much. He and Nino talked all the time. He and Chloe talked lots. Well—Chloe rambled and Adrien was sometimes lucky to get a word in here and there, but that was just her loud personality. Sometimes, Adrien even chatted for a while with Alya; they sat kitty corner from each other, after all. They were his _friends,_ and he talked with them. And Adrien and Marinette? They _talked._ That was hardly a love story for the ages.

    Plagg finally tossed the whole remainder of the chunk of cheese in his mouth, letting out a burp after he swallowed that had Adrien mildly disgusted.

        “A friend who you danced the _whole_ night away with,” Plagg insisted, and Adrien frowned at him.

        “She was doing me a _favor,_ ” Adrien reminded him, wondering why he wouldn’t just drop it.

        “Awful romantic favor.”

    Adrien threw his hands up in the air, somewhat exasperated. Tonight hadn’t been anything like that, and if anyone should know that, it was Plagg. “No, it _wasn’t_.”

    Plagg’s voice shifted into a _thoroughly_ unconvincing impersonation of his wielder in a mockingly dreamy tone. “Oh, Marinette, if you’re _my Ladybug_ tonight, do I get to be _your Chat Noir?_ You’re _such_ better company than my current bodyguard, Marinette!”

        “ _Shut up._ ” Adrien gritted his teeth, his cheeks starting to warm. “That was—we were just goofing around!”

        “All right, then a friend who you _oh-so-suavely_ gave your jacket to?” the kwami forged on, propping himself up on his hands to raise an eyebrow at Adrien. “Kid, I’m not one for romance, but even I’ll admit, you’ve got game.”

        “She made that dress herself! I didn’t want it to get ruined, that wasn’t some—I wasn’t _making a move_ on her.” But his cheeks were _bright_ red now—because of _embarrassment_ at what Plagg was implying; nothing else.

        “You’re the one who’s always swooning and spewing gross lovesick lines and talking about girls all the time,” Plagg replied carelessly, as he spun almost lazily back into the air and glided the short distance to his package of camembert for another piece. “Can’t really blame me for expecting you to act that way about everything.”

        “I don’t talk about girls all the time,” Adrien corrected, losing patience, “I talk about Ladybug.” His mouth cradled her name with such gentle care that Plagg let out a gag before shoving the piece of cheese into his mouth, rolling his eyes once again. “It’s not like that with Marinette; she’s just a friend.”

        “Well, whatever,” Plagg replied around a mouthful, flopping back onto the desk, and Adrien was thankful for the increased distance from his keyboard to Plagg’s messy eating. “I like her.” Just as Adrien was starting to raise an eyebrow, not entirely sure what to make of Plagg’s uncharacteristic endorsement of any of Adrien’s friends, the kwami pushed on, “She kept you busy the whole night; I didn’t have to talk to you at all! Do you know how much napping I got to do because she didn’t let you sit on your own where _I’d_ have to talk to you?”

    That drew a scoff from Adrien’s lips. “Well, jeez, thanks, buddy. I’d much rather talk to her than you, too. At least she smells like flour and homemade bread and chocolate chip cookies, instead of disgusting _cheese._ ”

        “You’re _smelling_ her now?” Plagg asked, and Adrien’s face burned bright again.

        “No! I’m not—I haven’t been _smelling_ her,” Adrien was quick to defend, because that… would be _weird._ “I just— _noticed_ it. She lives in a bakery, it’s not like I have to, like—go out of my way to notice that those smells follow her.”

        “Right. You just picked up on it during all that close slow dancing you were doing.”

        “ _Yes._ Which is normal. And _friendly._ ”

        “Well, now you’re just defensive,” Plagg said, not looking up from his container of camembert and waving his hand dismissively, and with narrowed eyes Adrien felt a nagging suspicion that Plagg was trying to get a rise out of him. What exactly could be so funny about ticking him off, Adrien couldn’t guess, but he couldn’t fathom any other reason Plagg would be pushing this so hard, and it wouldn’t exactly be an uncharacteristic display from the occasionally-callous kwami.

    Before Adrien could think much more on it, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he decided to drop it rather than further let his kwami back him into a corner and twist all his words about his _totally platonic friend_. Fishing his phone out of the pocket of his sweats—he’d already changed out of his suit and into his pajamas for the night—he unlocked his phone to see that the new text was from Nino.

    And he groaned as soon as he read it.

**[Nino | 8:03 PM | dude you cant just be glued to marinette all night and then not even mention it. what was that about?]**

    Adrien was already moving to text back, explaining that it _wasn’t like that_ and that he was _just_ trying to avoid dancing with Chloe and Marinette had been kind enough to agree to help with that, when another text rolled in, and another, and another, faster than Adrien could reply. His best friend, evidently, was excited about this.

**[Nino | 8:04 PM | you know i can totally get you her number from alya right?]**

**[Nino | 8:04 PM | alya would totally agree to help set you two up on a date too bro like seriously you should have said something]**

**[Nino | 8:04 PM | and did you seriously give her your jacket? how did you even GET this smooth man?]**

_[Adrien | 8:04 PM | No! No, Nino, I don’t need her number, and I definitely don’t need you setting up a date.]_

**[Nino | 8:05 PM | oh yeah man i get it, after tonight you seriously seem like you got this handled]**

_[Adrien | 8:05 PM | No, I mean, it’s not like that, I’m not handling anything. Marinette was just helping me out, she was helping me avoid dancing with Chloe, I’m not interested in her or anything.]_

    He frowned almost immediately upon hitting send—that message seemed wrong, or at least, not worded right.

_[Adrien | 8:05 PM | I mean she’s really interesting and I like getting to know about her but, seriously man it’s not like that.]_

    Better.

**[Nino | 8:06 PM | dude you dont need to be embarrassed, i thought i was head over heels for her just a few weeks ago, believe me i get it]**

_Seriously?_ Was this how _everyone_ was going to act about it?

_[Adrien | 8:06 PM | I mean it man, Marinette’s just a friend. I really appreciate it, but there’s nothing going on there.]_

**[Nino | 8:07 PM | dude, after all that talk you gave me about not being afraid and just being myself, now YOURE chickening out? not cool bro]**

    With a loud _thump,_ Adrien dropped his forehead against the desk in front of him, letting out another prolonged groan of frustration. What was _wrong_ with everyone today, and exactly how long was he going to have to spend convincing all of his closest friends that there was _nothing_ going on between him and Marinette? There was another buzz from his phone, another text from Nino most likely, and with a sigh, Adrien resigned himself to however long it was going to take him to talk his friend down from this conclusion he’d jumped to.

    It was going to be a  _long_ night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, plans for this little mini-series: it's meant to stay as FAR away from The Plot of the show as possible, so a good chunk of it will be written in the timeline before Volpina since that's when The Plot comes undeniably into play. It'll be just fluff and directionless cuteness for as long as possible, and then the parts post-Volpina will continue to be cut up into little mini-fics so that I get to skip around and ignore The Plot as much as possible haha. [Follow me on my tumblr](http://belladxne.tumblr.com/tagged/SCS-tag) if you want occasional commentary, sneak peeks, and behind the scenes so to speak. My askbox there is always open for questions and thoughts about the series, too!
> 
> Thank you all again so much for the support, and please leave reviews if you're enjoying the story so far!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabine Cheng knows exactly how to lovingly bully Marinette's friends into feeling right at home; Adrien couldn't feel unwelcome if he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't post this motherhecker on tumblr since I've been locked out of my account, so I've been stalling on posting it anywhere, but here have it anyways!
> 
> Edit: Got that bitch set back up lmao, so you can [follow me on my tumblr](http://belladxne.tumblr.com/tagged/SCS-tag) if you want occasional commentary, sneak peeks, and behind the scenes so to speak on the series after this point. My askbox there is always open for questions and thoughts about the series, too!

    Marinette’s fingertips seemed to be determined to switch between stinging, being sore, and being completely numb all morning—but that sort of came with the territory of needle-pricked fingers, which sort of came with the territory of designing. She was used to it. Even if it made holding her fork while she’d been eating breakfast kind of a struggle. And now, her currently-sore fingers were distracting her as she anxiously fiddled with the strap of her schoolbag; something to keep her nervous hands busy while she followed Alya into their classroom.

    Adrien was right there.

    (You know, in the front of the room, at his and Nino’s desk, exactly where he always sat. Not exactly an uncommon occurrence and definitely not a big deal, but dammit, she was _making_ it a big deal. They’d danced a _lot_ on Saturday. He’d given her his _jacket._ )

    Alya peeled off to walk to the right side of their desk, her side, and Marinette moved towards the left, but she paused just beside Adrien’s desk, trying not to be _completely_ weird about this. He’d looked up as soon as she’d started to pass, offering a bright, friendly smile that had her holding her breath for a moment as she forgot that, _oh, yeah, she was supposed to say something here._

        “Uh—hey,” she managed, voice perhaps slightly smaller than usual as she gave a tiny wave. “Good morning.” Good. Great. Greeting achieved.

        “Morning, Marinette,” he replied, lifting his fingers from where they’d rested on his desk in something that more or less resembled a half-hearted wave, and he thankfully did _not_ look weirded out in the slightest, so she was probably doing okay so far. Beside him, Nino shot her the kind of overly big, distinctly encouraging grin that had her narrowing her eyes slightly as she doubted once again that Alya hadn’t given him any details on who her crush was.

    It didn’t matter how convincing Alya was when she insisted she’d kept that detail secret—Nino’s acting was _not_ good enough for the part.

        “Um—your jacket,” Marinette pressed on as she tore her suspicious gaze from Nino to continue giving Adrien a small smile. “I didn’t bring it to school because I didn’t want it to get wrinkled in your locker or anything, but—I figured—if you wanted, I live, like, right next to the school, so you could maybe stop by and pick it up after school gets out?”

 _Not a big deal,_ she chanted in her mind. _Not a big deal, not a big deal._ Adrien had totally been over to her house before, twice now, this was definitely not a big deal.

    Except her stomach flipped around nervously, like this definitely _was_ a big deal.

        “Oh, sure!” Adrien replied with appreciative enthusiasm, shifting in his seat as he smiled up at her, and her eyes flicked from his bright eyes to his perfect smile to _anything that wasn’t his face_ because something as simple as a smile _shouldn’t_ make her so flustered _but it definitely did and_ —

    —and Nino was giving her a small thumbs up on Adrien’s other side, and she was _definitely_ going to have a talk with Alya as soon as class got out.

        “Or,” Adrien was talking, so her focus snapped back to him again immediately as she tried to quit freaking about him coming over, “I could come over during lunch, if that’s okay? I could just swing by and pick it up on my way home to eat, unless—”

        “No, that’s okay, that works!” She almost winced at herself as she cut him off, her mouth leaping into action to assure him before she could have even thought about it. “Whatever’s easier for you is easier for me. That’s totally fine. That works for me.” Oh, god, first she’d interrupted him, now she was rambling. “Um—so—I’ll see you then?”

        “Yeah, okay.” He leaned back in his seat, and he was still smiling at her (she was pretty sure at this point that that was definitely illegal; his face was definitely some sort of heinous crime). It took her a moment of staring, rooted in place with her eyes fixed on that criminal smile, to realize this was the point in the conversation where she was supposed to move. With a small start, she hurried to climb the next step up to her desk and slip into her seat beside Alya, a silent scream ricocheting around in her head.

    She’d just asked Adrien to come over to her house and he’d said yes. Okay. Okay, she could handle this.

    Probably.

    She didn’t notice Nino nudging Adrien with a sly smirk at the desk in front of him, nor the exasperated glare Adrien shot back at him, but she _did_ notice Alya beaming at her proudly, which was enough to remind her that Alya was in trouble. Narrowing her eyes at Alya slightly, Marinette jerked her head in Nino’s direction, and her best friend’s expression slipped into a sheepish, unconvincingly innocent mask.

 _‘Oh, please,’_ Marinette mouthed, eyes still narrowed. _‘You’re not fooling anyone.’_

    Alya had the _audacity_ to shrug, not sorry in the least.

* * *

    Marinette couldn’t stop fidgeting as she sat at the table, the lunch her mother had set in front of her still completely untouched. She’d already snatched up the suit jacket laid over the stool beside her a few times, checking her alterations to make sure they were as flawless as possible, because she was trying to do something _nice,_ not ruin his jacket, and she wanted the changes to be _unnoticeable_ to anyone who didn’t know about them. She hadn’t found fault with her work yet, but it would be just her luck to realize she’d screwed the whole thing up just when she was giving it back and it was too late to fix it.

        “Marinette, dear.” Her mother’s voice shook her from her fifth examination of the jacket as she tapped the table just in front of Marinette’s plate, insisting, “ _Lunch._ ”

    Marinette sighed as she put the jacket down, and then gave her mother a patient smile as she reached for her fork, because _clearly_ she didn’t _get_ it. How could Marinette possibly try to _eat_ when _Adrien_ was going to _be here_ any _second?_

    Honestly, she’d have waited for him, or asked him to just walk home with her, because that made sense—except that he’d been busy talking to Nino and she hadn’t wanted to seem strange, waiting around for him when they hadn’t actually _agreed_ to walk together, and she didn’t even know if he wanted to, really, and honestly she didn’t exactly _have_ the kind of bravery required to ask Adrien to walk home with her. So she’d slipped out of the classroom after a few moments of hesitation, figuring she could at least get there a couple minutes before him and bring his jacket down from her room, so she’d be ready for him.

        “ _Marinette,_ ” her mother chided again, a bemused smile on her face as she nodded once again to the girl’s food, and with another sigh Marinette moved to actually take a bite.

    The doorbell rang, and her fork instantly dropped to the plate—Marinette was out of her seat and halfway to the door, jacket in hand, in seconds.

        “ _Igotit!_ ” she announced, perhaps just a bit after that was already obvious. The jacket laid over her arm, Marinette scrambled to the apartment door fast enough that it was a miracle she didn’t trip along the way, given her typical level of grace, and she fumbled with the doorknob a second or two before she swung the door wide to reveal Adrien on the other side.

        “Hi,” she breathed, stupid grin on her face.

        “Hey.” He smiled, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Uh, I wasn’t sure if you’d already—”

        “Yeah.” Oh, no, not the interrupting again. “I mean, I didn’t know if you wanted me to—wait, for you, or anything, so I just—here, um, I have—”

 _Words!_ a voice screamed in her head even as she held out the jacket, _Marinette, you have to use **actual words!**_

        “Thanks.” He gave another, grateful smile as he reached out to take the jacket from her, seemingly not finding this bizarrely half-spoken exchange strange at all. Well, Marinette supposed that as long as they understood what the other was saying through their half-complete communication, that was all that mattered. It was almost better, wasn’t it, that they didn’t even need words to understand each other? That was how she and Chat Noir worked through her plans half the time, at any rate, and it worked for them.

        “Um,” she hazarded, giving a shy smile. “The dangers of leaving your clothing with an overeager fashion designer…” Adrien glanced up from the jacket in his hands to meet her gaze, the green of his eyes overwhelming her for a moment before she remembered she had to continue that thought. “I, uh, may have made some alterations.”

    Biting her lip, she fought an urge to instantly panic and assume he’d hate her for it, which would be ridiculous. But that didn’t stop her from thinking it. Brow furrowing, he looked back down to the jacket before holding it up, his eyes searching…

        “Ah—the pockets,” she supplied, reaching up to tug apprehensively at one of her pigtails. “The inside of them, I mean.”

        “Okay…” One of his hands shifted to one of the outer pockets of the suit, his finger slipping inside to pull the pocket open enough that he could see inside—revealing that the entire inside fabric of the pocket had been replaced with the same red and black-spotted fabric she’d used for her dress. He blinked, and then a surprised laugh escaped him. “Ladybug pockets!”

        “Yeah!” she replied with a relieved laugh, her entire posture relaxing as she took in his reaction of delight instead of… well, anything else. “I wouldn’t change—I mean, it was your jacket, and it fit perfectly, so it’s not like I would ever have changed—the style, or anything _big_ like that, but I was thinking about your tie and how you said it was funny, and I just thought—if you’re ever wearing this suit again and you go to put something in your pockets, you’ll remember this and you’ll…” _Think of me._ “—have a reason to laugh. An inside joke. Literally, sort of.”

    He was still chuckling, and every cheerful burst of the sound from his lips set off a warm, pleasant thrumming in her chest. God, she loved his laugh. Her heart ached with how much she loved everything _about_ him standing here in her doorstep, looking at her like she was something fantastic.

        “Thank you,” he said again, the gratitude in his voice bleeding through so much stronger this time, and then suddenly the arm that didn’t have his jacket laid over it was reaching out for her, his hand landing on her shoulder to gently pull her in for a one-armed hug. “This is awesome, Marinette. This is officially my favorite suit now.”

    She opened her mouth to give him some sort of response, to tell him it was nothing, but the only sound that escaped was a tiny squeak of surprise. She couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of his chest just barely pressing against her own, the warm feeling of his arm laid across her shoulders, the feeling of his hair tickling the side of her face—with a barely-perceptible jolt, she realized this was going to be awkward if she didn’t hug him back, and she quickly scrambled to reciprocate the gesture, trying not to cling too tightly or too desperately.

    She was hugging Adrien Agreste.

_She was **hugging. Adrien. Agreste.**_

    It took every ounce of her self-control not to do something drastic, like faint, or grab him tight and jump up and down in excitement, or scream with delight. She had no doubt that that would not go over well. Instead, she gently let her arms slip from where she’d wrapped them around him, taking the initiative to pull away and end the hug first, rather than, say, hold him prisoner in her arms forever, which she tried to convince herself wasn’t tempting at all.

        “Yeah, well, say the word and I’ll make you a whole suit out of the material. An entire Ladybug tux, for your use only,” she teased with a faint laugh, wringing her hands in front of her and trying to calm the furious blush still on her face.

        “Don’t tempt me,” he said a bit too seriously, and then they were both laughing, and Marinette wasn’t sure there had ever been a better feeling in the world. One of his feet edged back, like he was preparing to turn away, and his hand lifted from his side slightly and then dropped, like he’d been about to wave goodbye, and Marinette realized that now that he had his jacket, he didn’t have a reason to be here anymore, and he was probably running out of excuses to linger on her doorstep.

    Which was fair, really; he still had to get home and eat, and she still had to get back to her own lunch that she hadn’t even started—but she found herself desperately searching for some reason, any reason to keep him here just a bit longer.

        “Um, while we’re doing this—returning things, thing,” she started, stumbling over her words a little as she managed to summon them before she’d actually thought them through. Adrien tilted his head at her, the light from the hallway window catching his perfectly styled hair just right, so that it reflected off like some sort of ethereal halo around his head, and she caught a breath. She was going somewhere with this. Where was she going with this again? “Do you, um, still have my bracelet? The good luck charm?”

    Oh, right, that’s where.

        “Oh!” Adrien’s eyes widened, before his expression shifted to one that looked almost guilty. “Yeah, I didn’t get a chance to give it back to you. Uh—I don’t have it with me, it’s on my desk at home, but I can bring it for you—”

        “No!” This was a nightmare, it was like she was going for the world record of how many times you could interrupt your crush in one day. “Keep it! I was just—I’ve had it for a long time, I wanted to make sure it wasn’t thrown away or lost or anything.”

    Once again, Marinette marveled at exactly how far ahead of her thoughts her mouth could get. She was telling him to _keep it?_ She’d had that good luck charm for _years,_ it had been a _constant_ source of comfort and reassurance, and one guilty look from her crush had her just _giving it away?_

    Then again, she remembered the look on his face just before she’d given it to him, when he’d called her amazing and said—absurdly—that he wasn’t worth anything compared to her. He’d looked so _unhappy,_ sadder than he should have been over just a simple video game skill level, and part of her wondered if he’d meant in more ways than that. If the charm helped him feel better at all…

    And besides, she realized, she was _Ladybug_ —she was a _walking_ lucky charm, she could afford to not be greedy with this.

        “Keep it?” He looked surprised, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline when she nodded. “You’re sure?”

        “Yeah,” she said, her shoulders tugging into a shrug. “I mean, I’ve been hogging all its good luck for years, since I was a little kid—probably time to share a little bit of that luck with someone who I care about.”

    Holy crap, that was _way_ too much, _mayday, mayday,_ **abort mission,** she did _not_ just tell Adrien she cared about him, that was _way too much too fast_ , he was going to think she was _totally weird_ and—

        “…Really?” Adrien replied. Marinette sucked in a breath and held it, but he looked, genuinely… touched. “I mean, if you’ve had it so long—if you wanted to give it to someone—why me?”

    Oh, well. Because.

_Because I’m totally, hopelessly, stupidly in love with you? And because the thought of you holding onto something I made and treasured and giving it the same meaning and letting it make you feel better or smile—because the very thought of all that makes my knees a little weak and my stomach fill with butterflies? Because I want you to have as many reminders of me as possible and I want to be someone you think about when you think about funny pockets or lucky charms or anything that makes you happy, because there’s no one I’d rather share my favorite things with, because you’d looked so sad and like something like this could really mean something to you, because, because, because—_

    Marinette realized she hadn’t actually said a single word out loud. Which, actually, was a relief.

    Shrugging again, she gave a small smile. “Benefits of being the first person I ever showed it to, I guess. But—keep it with you, it works better that way.”

    His eyebrows raising again, Adrien looked a little taken aback. “You’d never shown it to anyone before me?”

        “Oh.” She blinked, her cheeks burning slightly pink. “I mean—yeah, I just. I don’t know, it’s never really come up, I made it years ago with my mom and I haven’t had a reason to—”

        “You made it with your mom?” His eyes had widened slightly, and it took her a moment to remember why that was significant, as he quickly shook his head. “Marinette, I can’t take that, if you worked hard making it with your mom then I shouldn’t—”

        “No! No, I insist.” Marinette shook her head vehemently, giving him the biggest, most reassuring smile possible. She was determined. He could have this. “You remember how nice my mom is, she’d probably want you to have it, too. Really. _I_ want you to have it. Please.”

    He hesitated, a conflicted expression crossing his face as he deliberated his response. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then repeated the process a couple times like every time he’d decided on an answer he immediately took it back. Finally, he hedged, “I just… are you sure I should take something that’s so special to you and your mom?”

    He looked kind of hopeful, though. Like he actually wanted the luck charm as much as she wanted him to have it.

        “Positive. You deserve good luck as much as anyone, and, besides, now that I’ve shared the bracelet with you, it’s special to you, too.” She tried to ignore how much her cheeks burned at those words, opting to call attention away from it by teasing, “Besides, admit it, you kind of like the bracelet.”

    He seemed to relax, a soft smile crossing his face as he seemed to accept that, and then he replied, “Yeah, I do. It’s cute.”

    Adrien Agreste thought her favorite lucky bracelet was cute, he liked it, and he wanted to keep it. Marinette’s life was going the best she thought it possibly could, ever. She breathed a small laugh, beaming at him as if to prove that she really was happy he’d agreed to keep it, and just as she opened her mouth to say—something, anything else; did he really have to leave?—her mom’s voice rang out behind her.

        “Oh, Adrien! It’s so nice to see you, dear.”

    His eyes shifted over Marinette’s shoulder, a polite and genuine smile crossing his face as he waved. Turning, Marinette saw her mother peeking around the corner from the kitchen, looking absolutely delighted to see Adrien. Oh, no. Not that Marinette didn’t agree, but her mom was totally gearing up to embarrass her, she was pretty sure.

        “Hello, Mrs. Cheng,” he said as Marinette stepped aside a little to give them a clear line of sight to each other. “I was just coming by to pick up my suit jacket—I let Marinette have it after Rose’s party on Saturday.”

        “Yes, I know,” Marinette’s mother replied with a bright smile, sounding more than a little pleased. “That was very sweet of you! But you can call me Sabine, dear, you don’t have to call me Mrs. Cheng. Would you like something to eat?”

        “Oh, well…” He hesitated, his expression turning apologetic. “I kind of have to…” He didn’t really seem like he actually wanted to complete that sentence, which was fine, because Marinette’s mother didn’t give him the chance.

        “Just a quick snack! Marinette’s lunch is already made, it would be easy to just whip you up something, just a fast little snack,” she insisted, smiling encouragingly. “Marinette said you enjoyed our food last time you were here, please, we’d love to share.”

        “Well—” Adrien paused again, before looking askance at Marinette, almost like he was asking her permission. She tried not to look too desperately hopeful as she smiled at him. “I… guess I could come in for a couple moments. I just have to text my bodyguard to let him know.”

        “Wonderful! Come right in, dear, you can take a seat at the table, I’ll have something for you right away!”

    And just like that, she’d disappeared around the corner again, and Marinette could hear the sounds of her bustling around the small kitchen when she turned back to Adrien with slightly raised eyebrows. “Maman really likes you,” she informed him of the obvious, smiling a little as she nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen, and he seemed more than a little pleased with that even as he let out a slightly sheepish chuckle.

        “Well, I hope I don’t do anything to change that, I like it at your house,” he replied as they started walking back towards the kitchen, and she positively _glowed_ she smiled so bright at the comment.

    Adrien Agreste liked being in her house, maybe almost as much as everyone in her family liked having him there.

    What even was her life anymore?

    The two settled into the stools set at the kitchen table, Marinette struggling not to fidget in excitement ( _Adrien in her apartment, Adrien at her table, Adrien sitting right next to her—_ ). She could be calm about this. He was only here for a snack. Tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, she hazarded, “Sorry, anyways—I mean, I know you said you like being here, but if you wanted to get going I’m sorry Maman held you up…”

    Adrien was quick to shake his head, giving a disarming smile almost instantly. “Don’t be, honestly, I do love your family’s cooking. I should start coming by the bakery for snacks, honestly, I’m surprised I’m not already your most loyal customer after how much I loved everything last time I was here.”

    The thought of Adrien stopping by regularly made her heart give a giddy little leap. Almost immediately she found her mind drawn to what she knew about his schedule, mentally indexing when it would make the most sense for him to swing through, so she’d know to be home at those times. Which wasn’t creepy. It was just… being prepared.

        “Oh, Adrien, customers are strangers,” Marinette’s mother cut in, and Marinette couldn’t help a smile at her mother’s favorite, most-spoken saying. “Any of Marinette’s friends are welcome here any time, and they never have to pay. Alya is here several times a week and we’re always giving her fresh pastries and snacks, that sweet Mylene girl has been here before, as well as—”

        “Maman, you’re going to end up naming the whole class, most of them have been here at least once or twice over the years,” Marinette interrupted, sounding amused, before turning to Adrien and using a hand to shield her mouth from her mother as she whispered to him with a wink, “My parents like to bribe people to be my friends with baked goods.”

    Something about the wink seemed to catch him off guard, his mouth falling slightly open, but he didn’t get a chance to respond before Marinette’s mother was talking again, seemingly having abandoned the snack she was throwing together for him. “We do not! They’re your friends anyways, the food is just our way of showing our appreciation. Regardless—customers are strangers, Adrien dear, and you’re no stranger. Any time you want a snack, stop in and we’ll get you something free of charge. Marinette’s friends don’t pay.”

    It was no way to run a business, really, but it was how her family operated, and Marinette kind of loved it. She loved being known as the girl with the generous and giving parents, even if they used that generosity as an excuse to nose into all her conversations with all her friends.

        “Oh, well—thank you Mrs.—ah, Sabine,” Adrien had recovered enough to shift his attention back to her mother, and he smiled politely even as he grappled with the informal address she’d insisted on. “But I have the money, I can afford—”

        “Oh, nonsense, dear, it’s not about whether you can afford it. This is something we like to do. Stop by any time, for free.” She waved a hand, and then continued as though it were all part of the same thought, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to just stay for lunch? It would be no trouble.”

        “Uh…” Adrien blinked, brow furrowing slightly while he thought that over. “Well, I’m sort of supposed to be home, and I wouldn’t want to inconvenience—”

        “It wouldn’t be an inconvenience,” Marinette’s mother cut him off immediately, her tone firm. “We’d love to have you, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem with your family if you just ate here today.”

    Marinette tried not to hold her breath as she looked over to see his response, and she was greeted with an all-too-familiar expression. Like Marinette’s mother had said, a lot of Marinette’s friends had been over before, and they all seemed to run into the same problem Adrien was having now—there was absolutely _no one_  who had it in them to say no to Sabine Cheng. It was almost impressive, really, how thoroughly the small woman made it so that no one ever wanted to let her down. After a moment or two of deliberating, Adrien sighed, and then he smiled.

        “Sure, I can stay. I just have to text my—uh, Nathalie, to let her know my personal chef doesn’t have to make anything for me today.”

    Marinette barely contained a squeal of delight ( _Adrien eating lunch with her, Adrien eating her mom’s food, Adrien sliding seamlessly into her family life for one lunch period_ —) and forced herself to take a bite of her own food then, rather than propping her head up on her elbow and simply grinning at Adrien because he was here, and he’d agreed to be, and he actually looked pretty content about it. Her mother looked as thrilled as she was, quickly turning to throw together a plate for him identical to Marinette’s as he pulled out his phone and began to type up a text.

        “Well, today’s going well for you,” Marinette commented after another bite of her lunch, determined that if he was going to be affectionately bullied into staying by her mother, she should at least make sure it wasn’t an awkward lunch spent feeling out of place. And that meant _talking_ to him, and that was something she was actually doing more or less okay with so far. “You thought you were just getting your jacket back and you ended up with Ladybug pockets, official ownership of a lucky bracelet, _and_ lunch with a friend. Sorry again about Maman, she’s impossible sometimes.”

        “Don’t be,” he shook his head, looking slightly amused—if a little baffled how he went from ‘just visiting’ to ‘stepping in for a snack’ to ‘staying the whole lunch,’ all in such a short span of time. “Like you said, I get lunch with a friend out of it, don’t I?”

    There were few feelings in the world that could possibly make her happier than hearing Adrien say he considered lunch with her a good thing. It probably showed, too, in the stupidly huge grin spreading across her face. “All the same, I’m sorry she bullied you into it.”

        “I did not bully him!” Her mother protested as she stepped over to place Adrien’s lunch in front of him with a warm smile. “There you go, Adrien dear.” Her gaze snapped to Marinette then, her expression turning chastising. “I invited him and he accepted.”

        “If you say so, Maman,” Marinette replied, but she shot Adrien a skeptical, conspirators’ look, a sort of _‘you-and-I-both-know-she’s-wrong-but-let’s-let-her-have-this’_ expression as her mother bustled past the table and out to the living room, where she’d been folding laundry. Because it was nice, to share a look with him that had any sort of _you-and-I_ implication. She liked the idea of she and Adrien being a _you-and-I_ —if that even made sense.

        “Thank you, M—Sabine,” he replied, still seeming to struggle with his instinct to lean towards formality with adults, before he returned Marinette’s look in a sort of silent, amused agreement, the small grin touching at his lips making her heartbeat stutter. She quickly ducked her head as her smile widened, turning her full attention to her lunch lest she blurt out something a little _too_ true, like _I love you so much when you smile like that_.

    After another bite of her lunch, Marinette found herself wincing and fumbling slightly with her fork again, the needle-pricks on her fingers protesting at having to hold anything. Noticing her wince, Adrien’s brow furrowed as he pulled his attention from his own food. “Everything all right?”

        “Oh.” Straightening slightly, Marinette quickly slipped on an easy smile, shaking her head as if to dismiss rather than answer his question and setting her fork down to rub at her fingers. “I’m fine, nothing I don’t deal with all the time, just—no matter how careful I am, I always seem to prick myself whenever I take on any sort of sewing project.” She laughed a little at her own expense. “My fingers just sting a little, it’s nothing.”

    Adrien didn’t seem to be thinking on it when his concerned gaze shifted to her fingers and he reached out, Marinette’s breath catching as his hand wrapped around her slender fingers. Like he didn’t even notice, didn’t even _realize_ that this was hands-down one of the most important things that had absolutely ever, _ever_ happened in Marinette’s life, he gently pulled her hand closer so he could look over the needle marks in her fingers with his brows knit together. She couldn’t do anything but gape, her cheeks burning furiously and her mouth fallen slightly open as she stared at her fingers encased in his own. She was going to scream. She was definitely going to scream, she could feel it building in her throat.

        “You hurt your fingers working on my pockets?” he asked then, sounding almost guilty, and it was enough to scramble her thoughts back together into something slightly coherent.

        “It’s not a big deal,” she rushed to assure him, her head shaking again. “Honestly, like I said, I do this all the time, it’s fine, it’s normal every time I sew.” Was she talking too fast? She was talking too fast. “I mean, I was the one who decided to mess around with your suit jacket, I knew the consequences.” She laughed, just a little too high pitched, but her _hand_ was in _his,_ how on earth was she supposed to _function_ through that?

        “You didn’t have to do that for me.” He sounded floored that she had, and his eyes lifted to meet hers then, and she was pretty sure her heart had stopped completely.

        “I wanted to,” she said quietly, and she meant it. He stared at her for a moment, and then he smiled.

        “Thank you,” he said yet again, and maybe he didn’t even _notice_ that he still held her hand in his own, but Marinette couldn’t notice anything _but_ that, except maybe how mesmerizing his eyes were, staring at her so openly like that, or how positive she was that she was about to _faint_. “Seriously, Marinette, thank you so much. You don’t have to do things like change up my pockets for a joke, or give me your lucky bracelet, or spend a whole night keeping me company just because I don’t want to dance with Chloe. You—” he paused, before raising his voice a little and turning his head slightly, as if to be sure her mother heard. “You and your family are some of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I mean it, thank you.”

    He dropped her hand then, smiling brightly at her before he turned back to his lunch as though nothing significant had even just happened, as though casually holding her hand had been the most _normal_ thing in the world, and Marinette didn’t even feel like she could breathe for a few moments as she stared, cheeks growing hotter by the moment. Oh, god, yeah, she was _definitely_ going to faint.

    It was like her brain had completely short-circuited; every time she felt like she’d nearly gathered her thoughts together into some kind of coherent, somewhat-organized pile, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around her own flashed through her mind again and it all crashed back into an unnavigable sea of nonsense. Marinette took a deep, somewhat shaky breath and counted back from ten, just so she could gather herself enough to turn back to her own food, blush still on her cheeks.

        “Well—you never had to give me your umbrella.” Her words were almost a mumble, but she was honestly barely composed enough to speak at all, so she figured that would have to be enough. “Or your jacket. You’re—not so bad yourself, you know.”

    He shot her another smile, but his eyes were too bright, too kind, too beautiful; she felt like they seared right through her and she couldn’t stand to meet his gaze with a weak smile of her own for more than a moment.

_Lunch. Focus on lunch. You can do that._

    And so, hands shaking slightly, she did.

    Adrien Agreste was sitting right next to her and he’d held her hand and he thought she was one of the kindest people he’d ever met—if she survived the few minutes it was going to take all that to sink in, she was going to be on cloud nine. Or she was going to die. She really wasn’t sure.

    But she was feeling pretty optimistic about finding out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marinette: -winks at Adrien-  
> Adrien: wow why did that remind me so much of ladybug haha weird can't be any reason for that haha  
> Plagg: -stares at the camera like he's on the office-
> 
> This little mini-fic has been a fun adventure, thank you all so much for giving me so much support that I ended up continuing it! Please leave me some feedback if you liked it! <3


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